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KING HENRY IV.

SCENE 1.]

Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touch'd;
Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutor'd;
Whose white investments figure innocence,
The dove and very blessed spirit of peace,-
Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself,
Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace,
Into the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war?
Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood,
Your pens to lances; and your tongue divine
To a loud trumpet, and a point of war?
Arch. Wherefore do I this?-so the question
stands.

Briefly to this end:-We are all diseas'd;
And, with our surfeiting, and wanton hours,
Have brought ourselves into a burning fever,
And we must bleed for it: of which disease
Our late king, Richard, being infected, died.
But, my most noble lord of Westmoreland,
I take not on me here as a physician;
Nor do I, as an enemy to peace,
Troop in the throngs of military men:
But, rather, show a while like fearful war,
To diet rank minds, sick of happiness;
And purge the obstructions, which begin to stop
Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly.
I have in equal balance justly weigh'd
What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we
suffer,

Their neighing coursers, daring of the spur,
Their armed staves in charge, their beavers down,
Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights of steel,
And the loud trumpet blowing them together;
Then, then, when there was nothing could have staid
My father from the breast of Bolingbroke,
O, when the king did throw his warder down,
His own life hung upon the staff he threw;
Then threw he down himself; and all their lives,
That, by indictment, and by dint of sword,
Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke.

West. You speak, lord Mowbray, now you know
not what;

The earl of Hereford was reputed then
In England the most valiant gentleman;
Who knows, on whom fortune would then have
smil'd?

And find our griefs heavier than our offences.
We see which way the stream of time doth run,
And are enforc'd from our most quiet sphere
By the rough torrent of occasion:
And have the summary of all our griefs,
When time shall serve, to show in articles;
Which, long ere this, we offer'd to the king,
And might by no suit gain our audience:
When we are wrong'd, and would unfold our griefs,
We are denied access unto his person,
Even by those men, that most have done us wrong.
The dangers of the days but newly gone,
(Whose memory is written on the earth
With yet appearing blood,) and the examples
Of every minute's instance, (present now,)
Have put us in these ill-beseeming arms:
Not to break peace, or any branch of it;
But to establish here a peace indeed,
Concurring both in name and quality.

West. When ever yet was your appeal denied?
Wherein have you been galled by the king?
What peer hath been suborn'd to grate on you?
That you should seal this lawless bloody book
Of forg'd rebellion with a seal divine,
And consecrate commotion's bitter edge?

Arch. My brother general, the commonwealth,
To brother born an household cruelty,
I make my quarrel in particular.

West. There is no need of any such redress;
Or, if there were, it not belongs to you.

Moub. Why not to him, in part; and to us all,
That feel the bruises of the days before;
And suffer the condition of these times
To lay a heavy and unequal hand
Upon our honours?

But if your father had been victor there,
He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry:
For all the country, in a general voice,
Cried hate upon him; and all their prayers, and love,
Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on,
And bless'd, and grac'd indeed, more than the king.
But this is mere digression from my purpose.-.
Here come I from our princely general,
To know your griefs; to tell you from his grace,
That he will give you audience: and wherein
It shall appear, that your demands are just,
You shall enjoy them; every thing set off,
That might so much as think you enemies.

Moub. But he hath forc'd us to compel this offer;
And it proceeds from policy, not love.

West. Mowbray, you, overween, to take it so;
This offer comes from mercy, not from fear:
For, lo! within a ken our army lies;
Upon mine honour, all too confident
To give admittance to a thought of fear.
Our battle is more full of names than yours,
Our men more perfect in the use of arms,
Our armour all as strong, our cause the best;
Then reason wills, our hearts should be as good:-
Say you not then, our offer is compell'd.

Mowb. Well, by my will, we shall admit no parley.
West. That argues but the shame of your offence:
A rotten case abides no handling.

Hast. Hath the prince John a full commission,
In very ample virtue of his father,
To hear, and absolutely to determine
Of what conditions we shall stand upon?
West. That is intended in the general's name:
I muse, you make so slight a question.

Arch. Then take, my lord of Westmoreland, this
schedule;

For this contains our general grievances :-
Each several article herein redress'd;

All members of our cause, both here and hence,
That are insinew'd to this action,
Acquitted by a true substantial form;
And present execution of our wills
To us, and to our purposes, consign'd;
We come within our awful banks again,
And knit our powers to the arm of peace.

West. This will I show the general. Please you,
lords,

West.
O my good lord Mowbray,
Construe the times to their necessities,
And you shall say indeed,-it is the time,
And not the king, that doth you injuries.
Yet, for your part, it not appears to me,
Either from the king, or in the present time,
That you should have an inch of any ground
To build a grief on: Were you not restor'd
To all the duke of Norfolk's signiories,
Your noble and right-well-remember'd father's?

Mowb. What thing, in honour, had my father lost,
That need to be reviv'd and breath'd in me?
The king, that lov'd him, as the state stood then,
Was, force perforce, compell'd to banish him :
And then, when Harry Bolingbroke, and he,-
Being mounted, and both roused in their seats,

In sight of both our battles we may meet:
And either end in peace, which heaven so frame!
Or to the place of difference call the swords
Which must decide it.

Arch.

My lord, we will do so.
[Exit West.
Mowb. There is a thing within my bosom, tells me,
That no conditions of our peace can stand.

Hast. Fear you not that: if we can make our peace
Upon such large terms, and so absolute,
As our conditions shall consist upon,
Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.
Mowb. Ay, but our valuation shall be such,
That every slight and false-derived cause,
Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton reason,

Shall, to the king, taste of this action:
That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love,
We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind,
That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff,
And good from bad find no partition.

[weary

Arch. No, no, my lord; Note this, the king is Of dainty and such picking grievances: For he hath found,-to end one doubt by death, Revives two greater in the heirs of life. And therefore will he wipe his tables clean; And keep no tell-tale to his memory, That may repeat and history his loss To new remembrance: For full well he knows, He cannot so precisely weed this land, As his misdoubts present occasion: His foes are so enrooted with his friends, That, plucking to unfix an enemy,

He doth unfasten so, and shake a friend.
So that this land, like an offensive wife,
That hath enrag'd him on to offer strokes;
As he is striking, holds his infant up,
And hangs resolv'd correction in the arm
That was uprear'd to execution.

Hast. Besides, the king hath wasted all his rods
On late offenders, that he now doth lack
The very instruments of chastisement:
So that his power, like to a fangless lion,
May offer, but not hold.

Arch.

'Tis very true;And therefore be assur'd, my good lord marshal, If we do now make our atonement well, Our peace will, like a broken limb united, Grow stronger for the breaking.

Mowb. Be it so, Here is return'd my lord of Westmoreland.

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And, both against the peace of heaven and him,
Have here up-swarm'd them.

Arch.

Good my lord of Lancaster,
I am not here against your father's peace:
But, as I told my lord of Westmoreland,
The time misorder'd doth, in common sense,
Crowd us, and crush us, to this monstrous form,
To hold our safety up. I sent your grace

The parcels and particulars of our grief; [court,
The which hath been with scorn shov'd from the
Whereon this Hydra son of war is born:
Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep,
With grant of our most just and right desires;
And true obedience, of this madness cur'd,
Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.

Mowb. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes To the last man.

P. John. You are well encounter'd here, my cousin Mowbray :

+

Good day to you, gentle lord archbishop:-
And so to you, lord Hastings,-and to all.-
My lord of York, it better shew'd with you,
When that your flock, assembled by the bell,
Encircled you, to hear with reverence
Your exposition on the holy text;
Than now to see you here an iron man,
Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum,
Turning the word to sword, and life to death.
That man, that sits within a monarch's heart,
And ripens in the sunshine of his favour,
Would he abuse the countenance of the king,
Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach,
In shadow of such greatness! With you, lord bishop,
It is even so:-Who hath not heard it spoken,
How deep you were within the books of God?
To us, the speaker in his parliament;
To us,
the imagin'd voice of God himself;
The very opener, and intelligencer,
Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven,
And our dull workings: O, who shall believe,
But you misase the reverence of your place;
Employ the countenance and grace of heaven,
As a false favourite doth his prince's name,
In deeds dishonourable? You have taken up,
Under the counterfeited zeal of God,
The subjects of his substitute, my father;

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P.John. I like them all, and do allow them well:
And swear here, by the honour of my blood,
My father's purposes have been mistook;
And some about him have too lavishly
Wrested his meaning and authority.

My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress'd;
Upon my soul they shall. If this may please you,
Discharge your powers into their several counties,
As we will ours: and here, between the armies,
Let's drink together friendly, and embrace;
That all their eyes may bear those tokens home,
Of our restored love, and amity. [dresses.
Arck. I take your princely word for these re-
P. John. I give it you, and will maintain my word:
And thereupon I drink unto your grace.

Hast. Go, captain, (to an Officer) and deliver to the army

This news of peace; let them have pay, and part:
I know, it will well please them; Hie thee, captain.
[Exit Officer.
Arch. To you, my noble lord of Westmoreland.
West. I pledge your grace: And, if you knew
what pains

I have bestow'd, to breed this present peace,
You would drink freely: but my love to you
Shall shew itself more openly hereafter.
Arch. I do not doubt you.

West. I am glad of it.Health to my lord, and gentle cousin, Mowbray. Mowb. You wish me health in very happy season; For I am, on the sudden, something ill.

Arch. Against ill chances, men are ever merry ; But heaviness foreruns the good event. [sorrow West. Therefore be merry, coz; since sudden Serves to say thus,-Some good thing comes to

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Arch.

Go, good lord Hastings, And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by. [Exit Hastings. P. John. I trust, my lords, we shall lie to-night together.

Re-enter WESTMORELAND. Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still? West. The leaders, having charge from you to Will not go off until they hear you speak. [stand, P.John. They know their duties.

Re-enter HASTINGS.

Hast. My lord, our army is dispers'd already: Like youthful steers unyok'd, they take their courses East, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up, Each hurries towards his home, and sporting-place. West. Good tidings, my lord Hastings; for the which

I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason:-
And you, lord archbishop,-and you, lord Mow-
Of capital treason I attach you both.

[bray, Mob. Is this proceeding just and honourable? West. Is your assembly so?

Arch. Will you thus break your faith?

P. John.

I pawn'd thee none: I promis'd you redress of these same grievances, Whereof you did complain; which, by mine honour, I will perform with a most christian care. Bat, for you, rebels,-look to taste the due Meet for rebellion, and such acts as yours. Most shallowly did you these arms commence, Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence.Strike up our drums, pursue the scatter'd stray; Heaven, and not we, hath safely fought to-day.Some guard these traitors to the block of death; Treason's true bed, and yielder up of breath.

[Exeunt. SCENE III. Another Part of the Forest. Alarums: Excursions. Enter FALSTAFF and COLEVILE, meeting.

Fal. What's your name, sir? of what condition are you; and of what place, I pray?

Cole. I am a knight, sir; and my name is Colevile of the dale.

Fal. Well then, Colevile is your name; a knight is your degree; and your place, the dale: Colevile shall still be your name; a traitor your degree; and the dungeon your place,-a place deep enough; so shall still be Colevile of the dale. you

Cole. Are not you sir John Falstaff? Fal. As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. Do ye yield, sir? or shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat, they are drops of thy lovers, and they weep for thy death: therefore rouse up fear and trembling, and do observance to my mercy.

Cole. I think, you are sir John Falstaff; and, in that thought, yield me.

Fal. I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of mine; and not a tongue of them all speaks any other word but my name. An I had but a belly of any indifferency, I were simply the most active fellow in Europe: My womb, my womb, my womb undoes me. Here comes our general. Enter Prince JOHN of Lancaster, WESTMORELAND,

and others.

P. John. The heat is past, follow no further

now:

Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland.-
[Exit West.
Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while?
When every thing is ended, then you come :
These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life,
One time or other break some gallows' back.

Fal. I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus; I never knew yet, but rebuke and check was the reward of valour. Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? Have I, in my poor and old

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motion, the expedition of thought? I have speeded hither with the very extremest inch of possibility; I have foundered nine-score and odd posts: and here, travel-tainted as I am, have, in my pure and immaculate valour, taken sir John Colevile of the dale, a most furious knight, and valorous enemy: But what of that? he saw me, and yielded; that I may justly say, with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, I came, saw, and overcame. [deserving. P. John. It was more of his courtesy than your Fal. I know not; here he is, and here I yield him and I beseech your grace, let it be booked with the rest of this day's deeds; or, by the lord, I will have it in a particular ballad else, with mine foot: To the which course if I be enforced, if you own picture on the top of it, Colevile kissing my do not all shew like gilt two-pences to me; and I, in the clear sky of fame, o'ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the element, which shew like pins' heads to her; believe not the word of the noble : Therefore let me have right, and let desert mount.

P. John. Thine's too heavy to mount.

Fal. Let it shine then.

P. John. Thine's too thick to shine.

Fal. Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me good, and call it what you will. P. John. Is thy name Colevile?

Cole.

It is, my lord. P. John. A famous rebel art thou, Colevile. Fal. And a famous true subject took him. Cole. I am, my lord, but as my betters are, That led me hither: had they been rul'd by me, You should have won them dearer than you have.

Fal. I know not how they sold themselves: but thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away, and I thank thee for thee.

Re-enter WESTMORELAND.

P. John. Now, have you left pursuit?

West. Retreat is made, and execution stay'd. P. John. Send Colevile, with his confederates, To York, to present execution:

sure.

Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him
[Exeunt some with Colevile.
And now despatch we toward the court, my lords;
I hear, the king my father is sore sick:
Our news shall go before us to his majesty,-
Which, cousin, you shall bear,-to comfort him;
And we with sober speed will follow you.

Fal. My lord, I besech you, give me leave to go through Glostershire: and, when you come to court, stand my good lord, 'pray, in your good report. P.John. Fare you well, Falstaff: I, in my condition,

Shall better speak of you than you deserve. [Exit. Fal. I would, you had but the wit; 'twere better than your dukedom.-Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not love me; nor a man cannot make him laugh;-but that's no marvel, he drinks no wine. There's never any of these demure boys come to any proof: for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood, and making many fish-meals, that they fall into a kind of male greensickness; and then, when they marry, they get Wenches: they are generally fools and cowards;which some of us should be too, but for inflammation. A od sherris-sack hath a two-fold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain; dries me there all the foolish, and dull, and crudy vapours, which environ it: makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes; which deliver'd o'er to the voice, (the tongue,) which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. The second property of your excellent sherris is,-the warming of the blood; which, before cold and settled, left the liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice: but the sherris warms it, and makes it course from the in

Confound themselves with working. Learn this,
Thomas,
And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends;
A hoop of gold, to bind thy brothers in;
That the united vessel of their blood,
Mingled with venom of suggestion,
(As, force perforce, the age will pour it in,)
Shall never leak, though it do work as strong
As aconitum, or rash gunpowder.

Cla. I shall observe him with all care and love.
K. Hen. Why art thou not at Windsor with him,
Thomas?

wards to the parts extreme. It illumineth the face; which, as a beacon, gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm: and then the vital commoners, and inland petty spirits, muster me all to their captain, the heart; who, great, and puffed up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage; and this valour comes of sherris: So that skill in the weapon is nothing without sack; for that sets it a-work and learning, a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil; till sack commences it, and sets it in act and use. Hereof comes it, that prince Harry is valiant; for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father, he hath, like lean, steril, and bare land, manured, husbanded, and tilled, with excellent endeavour of drinking good, and good store of fertile sherris; that he is become very hot, and valiant. If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle I would teach them, should be,-to forswear thin potations, and addict themselves to sack.

Enter BARDOlph.

How now, Bardolph ?

Bard. The army is discharged all, and gone. Fal. Let them go. I'll through Glostershire; and there will I visit master Robert Shallow, esquire: I have him already tempering between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come away. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-Westminster. A Room in the Palace. Enter King HENRY, CLARENCE, Prince HUMPHREY, WARWICK, and others.

K. Hen. Now, lords, if heaven doth give suc

cessful end

To this debate, that bleedeth at our doors,
We will our youth lead on to higher fields,
And draw no swords but what are sanctified.
Our navy is address'd, our power collected,
Our substitutes in absence well invested,
And every thing lies level to our wish:
Only, we want a little personal strength;
And pause us, till these rebels, now afoot,
Come underneath the yoke of government.

War. Both which, we doubt not but your majesty Shall soon enjoy.

K. Hen.

Humphrey, my son of Gloster, Where is the prince your brother? P. Humph. I think, he's gone to hunt, my lord,

at Windsor.

K. Hen. And how accompanied?
P. Humph.
I do not know, my lord.
K. Hen. Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence,
[here.
P. Humph. No, my good lord; he is in presence
Cla. What would my lord and father?

with him?

Clarence.

K. Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of [brother? How chance, thou art not with the prince thy He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas; Thou hast a better place in his affection, Than all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy; And noble offices thou may'st effect Of mediation, after I am dead, Between his greatness and thy other brethren:Therefore, omit him not; blunt not his love: Nor lose the good advantage of his grace, By seeming cold, or careless of his will. For he is gracious, if he be observ'd; He hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day for melting charity: Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flint; As humorous as winter, and as sudden As flaws congealed in the spring of day. His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd: Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth : But, being moody, give him line and scope; Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,

Cla. He is not there to-day; he dines in London. K. Hen. And how accompanied? canst thou tell that? [lowers. Cla. With Poins, and other his continual folK.Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds; And he, the noble image of my youth,

Is overspread with them: Therefore my grief
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death;
The blood weeps from my heart, when I do shape,
In forms imaginary, the unguided days,
And rotten times, that you shall look upon
When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
For when his headstrong riot hath no curb,
When rage and hot blood are his counsellors,
When means and lavish manners meet together,
O, with what wings shall his affections fly
Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay!

War. My gracious lord, you look beyond him The prince but studies his companions, [quite: Like a strange tongue: wherein, to gain the language,

"Tis needful, that the most immodest word
Be look'd upon, and learn'd: which once attain'd,
Your highness knows, comes to no further use,
But to be known, and hated. So, like gross terms,
The prince will, in the perfectness of time,
Cast off his followers: and their memory
Shall as a pattern or a measure live,

By which his grace must mete the lives of others;
Turning past evils to advantages. [her comb
K. Hen. 'Tis seldom, when the bee doth leave
In the dead carrion.-Who's here? Westmoreland?

Enter WESTMORELAND.

West. Health to my sovereign! and new happiness Added to that, that I am to deliver!

Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace's hand :
Mowbray, the bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all,
Are brought to the correction of your law;
There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd,
The manner how this action hath been borne,
But peace puts forth her olive every where.
With every course, in his particular.
Here at more leisure may your highness read;

[bird,

Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
K. Hen. O Westmoreland, thou art a summer
The lifting up of day. Look! here's more news.

Enter HARCOurt.

Har. From enemies heaven keep your majesty; And, when they stand against you, may they fall As those that I am come to tell you of! The earl Northumberland, and the lord Bardolph, With a great power of English, and of Scots, Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown: The manner and true order of the fight, This packet, please it you, contains at large. K. Hen. And wherefore should ese good news make me sick?

Will fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
She either gives a stomach, and no food,-
Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast,
And takes away the stomach,-such are the rich,
That have abundance, and enjoy it not.
I should rejoice now at this happy news;

:

And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy :-
O me! come near me, now I am much ill. (Swoons.)

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Enter Prince HENRY.

P. Hen. Who saw the duke of Clarence?
Cla. I am here, brother, full of heaviness.
P. Hen. How now! rain within doors, and none
How doth the king?
[abroad!
Heard he the good news yet?

P.Humph. Exceedingly ill.
P. Hen.
Tell it him.

P. Humph. He alter'd much upon the hearing it.
P. Hen. If he be sick

Which heaven shall guard: And put the world's whole strength

[Exit.

Into one giant arm, it shall not force
This lineal honour from me: This from thee
Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me.
K. Hen. Warwick! Gloster! Clarence!
Re-enter WARWICK, and the rest.
Cla.
Doth the king call?
War. What would your majesty? How fares your
grace?
[lords?

This sleep is sound indeed; this is a sleep,
That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd
So many English kings. Thy due, from me,
Is tears, and heavy sorrows of the blood;
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness,
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously:
My due, from thee, is this imperial crown;
Which, as immediate from thy place and blood,
Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits,-

(Putting it on his head.)

K. Hen. Why did you leave me here alone, my
Cla. We left the prince my brother here, my
Who undertook to sit and watch by you. [liege,
K. Hen. The prince of Wales? Where is he?
He is not here.
[let me see him:
War. This door is open; he is gone this way.
P. Humph. He came not through the chamber
where we stay'd.

K. Hen. Where is the crown? who took it from
my pillow?
[here.
War. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it
K. Hen. The prince hath ta'en it hence:-go,
seek him out.

Is he so hasty, that he doth suppose
My sleep my death?-

Find him, my lord of Warwick; chide him hither.
[Exit Warwick.

This part of his conjoins with my disease,
And helps to end me.-See, sons, what things you
How quickly nature falls into revolt, [are!
When gold becomes her object!
For this, the foolish over-careful fathers
Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains
Their bones with industry:
[with care,
For this, they have engrossed and pil'd up
The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold;
Their sons with arts, and martial exercises:
For this, they have been thoughtful to invest
When, like the bee, tolling from every flower
The virtuous sweets;

Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey,
Are murder'd for our pains. This bitter taste
We bring it to the hive; and, like the bees,
Yield his engrossments to the ending father.-

With joy, he will recover without physic.

Re-enter WARWICK.
Now, where is he that will not stay so long

War. My lord, I found the prince in the next

War. Not so much noise, my lords:-: sweet Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me?
prince, speak low;
The king your father is dispos'd to sleep.
Cla. Let us withdraw into the other room. [us?
War. Will't please your grace to go along with
P. Hen. No; I will sit and watch here by the
king.
[Exeunt all but P. Henry.
Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,
Being so troublesome a bedfellow?
O polish'd perturbation! golden care!
That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide
To many a watchful night!-sleep with it now!
Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet,
As he, whose brow, with homely biggin bound,
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty!
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit
Like a rich armour, worn in heat of day,
That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath
There lies a downy feather, which stirs not:
Did he suspire, that light and weightless down
Perforce must move.- My gracious lord! my

father!

room,

Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks;
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow,
That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood,
Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife
With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.
K. Hen. But wherefore did he take away the
crown?

Re-enter Prince HENRY.

:

Lo, where he comes,-Come hither to me, Harry :-
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.

[Exeunt Clarence, Prince Humphrey, Lords, &c.
P. Hen. I never thought to hear you speak again.
K. Hen. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that
I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. [thought:
Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair,
That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours,
Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth!
Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee
Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity
Is held from falling with so weak a wind,
That it will quickly drop: my day is dim.
Thou hast stol'n that, which, after some few hours,
Were thine without offence; and at my death,
Thou hast seal'd up my expectation:

Thy life did manifest, thou lov'dst me not,
And thou wilt have me die assur'd of it.
Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts;
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart,

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